Hellfire
by Wickedlovely01
Summary: Magnus has a nightmare. What is it about and how will he take it afterwards?


**A/N: Hello my name is Wicked and welcome to the feels factory, where Malec will endure pain and sacrifice just so long as I write. My god, I'm almost as bad as Cassie Clare. Please don't kill me with seraph blades because of the following story :/... I am a firm believer in dreams, though I don't take Chicken Little's route where if an acorn falls from a tree in my dream I scream "THE SKY IS FALLING THE SKY IS FALLING, WE'VE GOT TO GO TELL THE PRESIDENT!" But I do enjoy dreams. Now read, my lovelies!**

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"Mommy!" Magnus cried, and in this point in time, the young boy couldn't have been more than six. His black hair hung in shaggy curls around his foreign and tanned face. The green cat eyes were full of innocence and curiosity, built on love and hope. He ran to the barn, which was caving in with the constant pour of rain that came from the ever-grey sky. The red looked bleak against the dreary backdrop, Magnus fell, his feet slipping on the wet grass, which his feet could not get a grip on. He stood up, wiping his arm over his forehead, which was covered with mud. everything here seemed grey, even the fire that warmed him on cold winter evenings seemed less bright and more somber.

He was afraid of the storm that had hit, and most kids were, But Magnus was not a kid, he wasn't human. He didn't know exactly what he was, but he must have been a monster to his parents. They cowered in fear in disgust when Magnus went near them. Still, having the mind of a normal human boy, he forgave them, to ignorant to notice that they would never love him as they would have loved another. Magnus swung the heavy door to the side, water dripping into his raven hair, obscuring his view of the dark and depressing scene before him. The nervous smile seemed to have been slapped off in the moment the young boy looked above at the aging beams.

"M-mommy?" Magnus's voice went up an octave, quivering with fright. His mother seemed to be suspended by rope, her eyes closed, but it seemed as they were bulging out of their curved sockets. Her long black hair was blowing to the side, stringy and unwashed. The olive skin was now the color of pale alabaster, the rope beckoning her soul to death.

That was all the young boy could see from the light of the sky that shone through the door, it's cruel beams shoving Magnus into harsh reality. There were no holes in the barn, and that seemed quite impossible from what state the roof was in. But the interior was quite different from the exterior, and Magnus found himself more than once curling into the warm and comforting haystacks late at night after his father had beat him to a bloody pulp. His mother tried to love him, the boy knew, but no one could love a monster such as himself. He lacked a bellybutton, and his eyes were not human. They had slit pupils surrounded by green and gold irises.

A creaking sound came from the center of the medium sized barn. A sob of grief rang out in the darkness, and Magnus knew exactly who it was even without the glowing light of the sky. His father. He never cried, and he never showed his son any kindness or sympathy. Only disgust and pity for himself as well as his wife. Magnus stepped hesitantly on the floor, which was cushioned by hay. It crackled under his bare feet softly, but the tiny sound seemed to echo for miles around.

"You killed her." His father said. It was always 'you' or 'boy' with his parents. Magnus wanted a name. A real name, because he was a real person, no matter how different he was, and real people deserve real names. Magnus liked his name, and his god loving parents didn't. Little boys were not supposed to disobey their parents or go against their wishes, but Magnus figured they wouldn't care either way, and so therefore he never expressed his name to them. It was his little secret, and he would keep it hidden from them until the end of his days.

"No." Squeaked Magnus softly. "No, I didn't." He started to back away towards the door, shaking his head and feeling wet tears trail down his boyish face. His father was coming toward him, in a fit of rage and sadness, plus probably a bottle of wine or so added to the monsters emotion. Magnus turned on his heel, darting for the door, the opening just big enough for him to fit through. As he stepped outside, he noted that the rain and thunder had stopped, and the birds were chirping in the breeze that fluttered around, scattering pollen and fresh air to Magnus's nostrils. He paused to take a deep breath in and then he shot across the large farm like a rocket, away from his furious father and his dead mother.

Before long, he had traveled up to the small cottage where he lived, but Magnus never made it to the door handle. He felt a strong and forceful hand grab at the collar of his white shirt, tearing the fabric and ultimately choking the young mixed race boy. His father dragged him towards the trough where the horses drank water after a long day in the fields plowing seeds that would never grow in the infertile soil. It was one of the reasons why Magnus's father was always angry. They didn't live in a good plot of land, and the wind blew over the dusty topsoil like it was nothing.

Magnus struggled against the grip of the older man, but it was no use. His grasp on Magnus was relentless, the days of building and hacking away at the dead stalks of corn added up to tight corded muscles, which were hard and firm under the pale, fleshy skin. And then, the young boy's face hit the water, his head striking the bottom of the splintery box. Try as he might, Magnus could only break the surface of the water once, and he was too weak to do anything more. His father wanted to get rid of him? Fine. Magnus stopped struggling, and rage boiled up inside of his small and fragile frame. A muffled voice yelled at Magnus. "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" His father shouted. "YOU KILLED HER YOU DEMON FROM HELL!"

Magnus was growing, and he realized that this was simply a memory. He knew now what would happen. The rage that piled up inside of him like dirty dishes in a kitchen sink would explode and wicked power would pour out of his veins, giving permission for his father to burst into flames and die, joining his indonesian wife in the afterlife. The Warlock- yes that's what he was. Not a monster, but a downworlder. Magnus remembered now.- felt his small, childlike hands get more wide and tall, until they stopped at his eternal age of 19. But what he thought was going to happen and what really happened were two entirely different things. Instead of his father screaming hellishly as the skin was burnt off his frame, Magnus went down into the water, body and all. Deeper and deeper he traveled, until the brown and blue undertones slowly metamorphosed into red and orange and they oddly resembled flames. The feeling of drowning went away, as did the hand that pinned Magnus down to his death.

His feet hit a hard flooring made of some type of dark crimson stone. Magnus looked at his body. He wasn't a child anymore. He was a man. And now he knew how to control his own powers, so that people didn't get hurt unintentionally. His tan skin was practically glowing in the bloody light. The glittery purple and gold nail polish he remembered painting on his fingernails before he went to bed glinted in the hellish light. It was uncomfortably hot. Even without a sign or clue as to where he was, Magnus could name the place like he'd been there a thousand times before. It was where he was going to go when he died. Hell. It would be inevitable, even if he did angelic and good things in his life. This was the place his soul was destined for, just because of his demonic lineage.

"Oh Magnus," A soft seductive cat like voice purred. Magnus turned around, and saw Camille Belcourt, his former lover. Her lush blond hair was flowing down her back like a graceful waterfall, curls surrounding her shoulders. Her green eyes could melt any mundane or downworlder to bow to her every whim. Those emerald eyes had captivated the Warlock once, and he did what he was told like some house pet. But no longer. Now they just held ambition and poison, and Magnus knew that she was only there to torment and confuse him in this never ending nightmare of hell. "Come here baby. Let me hold you." She reached out her pale arms which were slender and long. Magnus's inner part, the demon part, wanted to go to her. He swayed for a moment, but stayed put. Lust was a temptation he would no longer give into, for he had Alec, and if Magnus went to Camille, everything he had worked for, everything they had worked for towards their complicated relationship, would be shattered into a million pieces. Yet this was a dream, but he still did not move.

Shutting his eyes, Magnus mentally prepared himself to wake up. Over and over he told himself he'd wake up and everything would be fine. But that never happened, just like his father bursting into flames did not happen, though it was supposed to. He thought about his loft in New York, the color of Alec's eyes when the sun hit them in the park. He thought about the extensive glitter collection he owned. Still, nothing happened.

"Open your eyes." Purred Camille's voice, which was now dangerously close, and Magnus could feel her breath on his ear. His fingers clenched into a fist and sweat beaded up on his forehead. He wouldn't give in. Taking deep breaths in and out through his nose, Magnus fought the urge to punch blindly at the sound of the female vampire coaxing him with her words of greed. He wasn't a shadowhunter, so chances were he'd miss terribly, and then where would he be? Dead in his mind dreamt hell. "Open them." Camille commanded further, a sliver of rage concealed in her tone.

It was getting harder to disobey her. Magnus started to see flames, brilliant bursts of red and orange, under his eyelids. "Fuck off, Camille." He said through gritted teeth. He meant it too.

"Fine. Have it your way, Warlock." She said coldly, all the seductiveness in her voice gone. The sound of wind moving was heard and Magnus finally opened his eyes. No one was near him, the cave completely void of any life besides Magnus. But he still heard the screams of the tortured souls. Men, women, children, shrieked in pain and misery. Magnus shuddered. He would be here someday, it was only a matter of time before he was, and when he joined the unlucky souls here, he'd be just as anguished as the rest of them down here in hell. Just as soon as Camille left, she returned, with a small, white form in her clutches. The figure's hood was up, the Warlock couldn't tell who it was, only that it was a man by its chest. "You know, I can't figure out why your love that disgrace of a Shadowhunter. He isn't much to look at." She sneered, dragging the boy's body towards the center of the cave.

"Looks aren't everything." Snarled Magnus. "He's more brave than you'll ever hope to be. He loves me too."

The female vampire practically laughed. "Loves you? He can't love you, for Shadowhunters are incapable of love. If they had any affection towards anyone, the downworlders wouldn't die as they do." She was starting to chain the body on the wall, the thin and frail wrists already starting to turn red with irritation. It reminded Magnus of somebody very familiar. Black lines curled up from the slate colored cloak that covered his body.

"Thats a lie. He only kills because he has to, not because he wants to." Retorted Magnus.

"Oh god. Please tell me you didn't give into his lies. They can do that, you know. Make mundanes and downworlders believe what they tell them. Now, me, I won't lie to you." Camille slid closer to Magnus, done with her work on the figure that was still unconscious. Her olive colored dress slid down her shoulders, the cut a very low V-neck, and the hem ended where her long, pale silky legs began. Magnus remembered those legs. He remembered moving his skilled hands over them all those years ago in bed. He remembered how they walked and almost had a mind of their own. "I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of, Magnus. Money, world wide fame, passion. All you have to do," Her blood red lips which flickered with the glossy gleam of the flames, were next to his cheek. "is say yes." And then she had the nerve to swipe her tongue sneakily over his cheek.

"No!" Magnus said, shoving Camille away from him. The anger was taking hold of him. Didn't she get that he belonged with Alec? Alec was his life, his purpose, and he wouldn't let go of him for ever a second. "I don't love you anymore, Camille. There was a point when I did, but it has long since passed."

"He is a mere mortal!" Countered Magnus's opponent. "We are immortal, together, we could rule all of earth! That Lightwood boy will die someday, you and I both know that. But I will not, and you will not. We are meant to be."

"No we are not!" Magnus shouted. The roaring of the flames, which were quiet and merry at first, now had crackled into a blazing inferno of noise and heat. The sweat that had beaded on his forehead was now falling down his face at an alarming rate. "And the time that I have with Alexander is precious. Just because he is a mortal and a shadowhunter does not mean I can't love him and hold him the way I do. When he dies, I know I will have successfully made his life worthwhile. I don't want to be with you, Camille. I want to be with my darling little Alexander."

Smiling, but coldly so, the vampiress stalked over to the unmoving figure. Against the grey fabric, ebony hair clearly stood out, the greasy strands stuck to the alabaster colored forehead. "Have it your way then, Bane. The mortal will die someday, so why not spare you the heartache and just end your tragic love story now?" Her pointed canine teeth stuck out, shimmering and shining in the deadly flames. Flicking back the ashy hood, Magnus saw who it was, the fire illuminating his angelic face.

"Alexander." Magnus breathed, almost losing his footing. He should have known, should have seen the signs. His boyfriend's skin was sensitive to metal, making it red and irritated. And the black lines... Those were runes that trailed up his muscular arms, not scorch marks as he had once previously thought. Shaking his head, Magnus's surprised face turned into a scowl. "Camille, let him go." He said forcefully. But the lady only tilted her head back and chuckled, and it was almost cat-like. She bent down and pulled a long, silver dagger from her black boot, which concealed the polished weapon extremely well. Magnus took a step forward, and as soon as he did, Camille wrapped her arm around Alec's neck. The shadowhunter was so pale, their skin tones almost matched. His blue eyes opened, the only cool thing in the cave, with its fiery stalactites and stalagmites. The sapphire irises showed fear and confusion in them, and tears ran down his face.

"Magnus... Help..." He croaked out.

"Quiet." Camille whispered dangerously. "Take one more step, and Lightwood dies." She held the dagger close to Alec's neck. Magnus knew she wasn't kidding. But, where she was cunning and resourceful, he could easily snap his fingers, and she would be frozen.

"Please-" Alec was silenced by a high pitched yelp as a trail of red started to carve a river down his collar. That was the final straw for Magnus. No one harmed his boyfriend and got away with it. In an instant, Camille was frozen, the knife teetering on the edge of her statue fingers precociously. Now that, Magnus hadn't thought through. He ran towards his beloved shadowhunter, and their fingertips had barely touched when the bayonet fell, hitting Alec squarely in the heart, killing him.

"NO!" Magnus screamed, his eyes widening in shock and anger. He dropped to his knees, the noises coming out of his throat were animal-like in grief. He grabbed Alec's hand, checking for a pulse. There was none. The cave around him rumbled and roared, like some terrible giant awoken from his slumber. Cracks appeared in the rocky floor, and Magnus got up, dodging the pits as they appeared. One had swallowed up Alec, and its twin the same to Camille. Soon, the earthquake stopped, and Magnus Bane was alone, except not really. There was still the tortured screams of the eternally damned to keep the broken and crushed Warlock company.

"Magnus!" They cried. "Help us!" They shouted out in unison. They repeated this, everyone a chorus of anguish. Some sounded like they were pleading, others angry, a minority sad and depressed. Magnus wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth, sobbing and not trying to contain the noise he was making. He had lost his love of his life to his former flame of the 1800's. It was all his fault. He should have considered the knife, and maybe then Alec would still be alive and always forever safe in his arms.

"I can't help you!" Magnus sobbed, his voice cracking. "Leave me alone. I can't help you!" But his name grew louder and louder the more he said he was sorry. Their cries drowned out his voice, making him a silent figure who couldn't comes to terms with the things that he had done. "Leave me alone... Just please leave me alone..."

"Magnus!" The Warlock was suddenly jolted awake by a very familiar voice shaking his shoulders. "Wake up!" The tone was Alec's, worried and tiresome. Magnus opened his cat eyes to the sight of his boyfriend grabbing his shoulders and shaking them none too gently. He was covered in a cold sweat, his breathing deep and labored.

"What? Where's the fire?" Magnus said, his mouth feeling as though it was stuffed with sandpaper. It was a poor choice of words, and he remembered the cave of fire deep in the depths of hell, his personal hell. He knew it was a dream, but it still managed to scare him until he felt like his six-year old self on the day that his mother died and his father tried to kill him.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you, but you were screaming your head off like someone got murdered." Alec said, running his pale hand through his midnight black hair, which blended in magnificently with the background. His skin was like moonlight, shimmering in the night like the stars in the sky. The blue eyes were curious and alive, just as they always were, and hopefully always would be.

"Yeah well," Magnus said, using his elbows to heave himself up so that his back was resting against the headboard. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked at the clock. 3:24 a.m. "it's over now." His throat was parched and he could only think about water.

"I'll get you some water, okay?" Alec said, practically reading the others mind. He gave Magnus a reassuring smile, and as much as Magnus was thirsty, he wanted Alec by his side more. He grabbed the shadowhunters hand as Alec stood up, the Warlock's eyes were pleading, begging his boyfriend to leave him alone to fend the darkness by himself. "Are you okay? You seem a little... Off tonight. I'll just be in the bathroom, with the light on. You'll still be able to see me." Alec searched Magnus for anything that could've spooked him like this. Magnus didn't want to think about his nightmare. He didn't want to speak to his boyfriend, which he should have, about how he died, and how it was all his fault.

"Fine. Go." Magnus croaked out, releasing his death grip on Alec's wrist. He was shaking, the after effects of the death shrouded dream destroying him slowly, first starting with the sane parts of his mind. Soon, he'd be nothing but demon, and demos couldn't love, only kill.

Alec slowly walked away, his walk sleepy, and Magnus felt a pang of guilt for having woken him. But he supposed that could not be helped, because he didn't know he was practically screaming bloody murder. The light came on from the bathroom, yellow and lazy, as if it didn't want to shine its brightest tonight. The faucet came next, pulling Magnus from his remembrance of the vision he had had. The sound of running water soothed the on paranoid Warlock, and his eyes drifted to Alec, who did his self-given task with grace and charm. Magnus just kept his thoughts on his boyfriend. His fabulous, shadowhunting boyfriend who didn't know how beautiful he was and so therefore needed to be reminded each and everyday of his amazing life. God, even his walk was sexy. Alec was marvelous at everything he did without lifting a finger.

Soon, Alec was back, holding Magnus in his arms while he practically inhaled the water he was given, not bothering to appreciate the coolness of the element, or the metallic aftertaste. In five giant gulps, the glass was empty, and Magnus took a deep breath. It felt like he was drowning, and after that little episode he had, it felt good. He hadn't forgotten his childhood memory, the one where he nearly died by his father's hands, but he'd relived it so many times in his mind that it was no longer traumatic to him, only bothersome and annoying that something so cruel could resurface after so many years. Alec stroked Magnus's hair, which was no doubt sweaty and gritty from the glitter he had worm with his flamboyant outfit. "Do you want to talk about it? The dream?" The serious shadowhunter asked, kissing Magnus's head lightly and comfortingly.

The Warlock snuggled into his boyfriends chest, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and a burning campfire, along with the sweet aura of vanilla. His lips were slightly parted, but his cat-eyes were wide and alert, as if a moment from his dream would come from his tortured mind and embed itself in reality, the only place where Magnus was safe and could protect Alec without something horrible happening to one or both of them. "Yes. No. I don't know." Magnus said quietly, arguing with himself inside his mind.

"Okay, you think about it. We'll just sit here in silence until you decide. I won't talk, won't urge you to speak, and I definitely won't leave your side. You can tell me anything, Magnus. Just remember: talking helps. I love you. I'm gonna shut up now." Alec said, and then muteness took over the both of them.

It wasn't until the soft morning light had graced the New York skyline with a promising day that Magnus had decided to confide in Alec about his nightmare. They had just sat perfectly still like statues in silence, neither one daring to move or take too deep of breaths. Now the Warlock was near tears, reliving the things he didn't want to relive ever again, but his boyfriend was right, as he usually was. Talking did help. And then they were done inferring the dream, and deciphering what it meant in five minutes, but Magnus was still traumatized by it. At about 7:00, Alec had managed to coax Magnus out of bed using slow and robotic motions. Magnus knew that Alec was extremely alarmed by his personality change, but he couldn't help being frightened. With the Shadowhunter whispering encouragements in the Warlocks ear, they somehow made it to the kitchen, and it was here that Magnus put his head down on the cold, white countertop, doing nothing but breathing and muttering 'I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault.' over and over again, unable to stop.

The two men in the room knew it would take weeks, maybe even months to get over this nightmare, and possibly Magnus at that point wouldn't even be himself again. But Alec didn't mind nursing his boyfriend back to his usual mental peak. On the contrary, it gave him an excuse to stay home more often. Every night like clockwork, Alec would say 'I love you.' to his favorite Warlock in the whole entire universe. But it wasn't until one month later did Magnus come out of his shock and say it back. Only then, was their world perfect again. And they both hoped it would forever remain that way.

But the Shadowhunter and the Warlock never would get a perfect ending. Their lives had forbidden it.

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**A/N: So yeah, you probably hate me now, don't you? Yeah, don't lie, I know you do. Anyways, if you would like me to write a (hopefully) successful fluffy one-shot, leave me a plot down in a review. Or if you just want to tell me how evil I am, leave a review. Actually, I don't care what you say as long as it is related to the story I wrote, just leave a review if you read this entire story. Thanks!**

**Ave Atque Vale,**

**Wicked.**


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